


North of Whoville

by k2b



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Fluff, grinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k2b/pseuds/k2b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabel attends the Queens’ Christmas party. Her heart will not grow three sizes today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	North of Whoville

Of all Isabel’s responsibilities, having to attend the Queens’ annual Christmas party is the biggest chore – over and above all the other functions which Oliver seems to feel are completely necessary. She despairs as it would seem nothing can draw the playboy out of the CEO, even after more than five years in the position. 

Currently she and Oliver are trying to maintain a conversation about something that isn’t work while others mill around and occasionally stop by to say their piece. Most of the guests are not Queen Consolidated employees, but those that are, are very visibly the ones who do not approach her (or Oliver when he’s with her).

They’ve yet to have sunken as far as discussion the weather – but are rapidly approaching that point – when, out of nowhere, a projectile lobs itself across the room and attaches itself to Oliver’s legs. He doesn’t flinch or blink, instead his tense expression melts away into a warm smile.

Of course it’s the child. The older one, probably, as the younger one is unlikely to be able to move quite so quickly. A girl, Isabel thinks. She thinks both of them are girls if she remembers the excited emails that Thea sent out to half the known world on their arrival in it. Thea’s standing across the room, beaming in their direction, clearly having spotted the brat clinging to its father. Thea’s boyfriend (maybe fiancé? Isabel may have received an email about that, too) is looking vaguely ill – maybe because he suspects he’s going to have to produce a child of his own soon enough or maybe because of the state of Oliver’s child.

The girl – and it is really hard to tell because she’s covered head to foot in mud – is holding something up to her father… a flower maybe, with most of its petals missing. “For you, Daddy.”

He takes it, smiles again and sniffs – though it can’t have anything resembling a scent – and tucks it into the pocket of his suit so the filthy thing is still visible. “It’s beautiful.” The smile he gets in return is wide and delighted. He doesn’t stop to question where and how the child ended up so filthy and clutching a weed at this time of night. Possibly he’s happy to have his progeny rolling around in the dirt at night, provided the security team are watching.

“Oh, no.” Felicity emerges out of the crowd, younger child balanced on her hip. “What have you been doing?” She passes her younger child to her husband who easily accepts the girl – dressed in pink, including the bow in her blond curls – while she detaches the protesting sibling, being careful not to let the child touch her clothing. It’s too late for Oliver’s suit, but he seems unconcerned. “We need to get you cleaned up.” She nods a greeting to Isabel, managing to hide her distaste for once, glares at Oliver and then leads the girl away.

“Trouble. Just like your father.” But she’s laughing as she moves across the room and the people around them are chuckling in amusement. “You both need full time babysitters.” Her words are almost drowned out by the murmuring guests and the little girl’s loud protests, clearly not seeing the humour in the situation that’s going to lead to her having to bathe.

To be fair to Felicity, the woman at least has the sense to remove the child from the centre of attention and get it cleaned up. And she can’t help the way Oliver whines about the replacement assistant he has to have while she’s on maternity leave. A year for both children – if you’re married to the CEO you can have whatever time off you want – and they’ve four months to go. The fact that Oliver actually went ahead and _married_ his assistant and then _kept_ her as his assistant is unprofessional, to say the least. And letting muddy children run around events that are functionality formal ones seems to be the height of poor behaviour. But then that’s Oliver Queen from head to foot. Isabel has long decided that his parents’ coddling in his childhood that did the damage. Clearly he’s set on doing the same damage to his own children, Felicity’s mitigating presence notwithstanding.

Of course there’s a rumour that Felicity’s now pregnant with their third child which seems like a bad idea to Isabel. It’s probably Oliver’s fault, having resigned himself to monogamy for the rest of his life (and rumour confirms he hasn’t strayed once) appears to be trying to prove his virility in other ways. Isabel doesn’t know how well the poor woman will be able to manage her husband and three children. Isabel doesn’t know how _she’s_ going to manage the man and she only has to put up with him for eight hours a day – god knows that the last eight months have given her, her assistant and Oliver’s replacement assistant permanent headaches. Isabel had never really appreciate Felicity’s skills until she’d gone on maternity leave that first time.

“Dada.” She turns back to Oliver to see the baby pat his cheek and catch him almost unconsciously pressing a kiss to the girl’s head, his face still alight with a soft smile. He bounces the little one on his hip and Isabel’s nearly surprised when he doesn’t start cooing. The picture of familial bliss that she’s been treated to this evening is rapidly starting to grate on her nerves and she’s not going to put up with it without more alcohol.

“Excuse me.” She’s sure he can find someone else to talk to – certainly people seem to mob him when he has his children with him. She collects herself a drink, dodges Moira Queen, and endeavours to find herself someone to talk to that is more like-minded. And lacking in messy accessories.

**Author's Note:**

> I own neither Arrow nor The Grinch Who Stole Christmas
> 
> Aww. I liked this universe a lot. I might write more for it at some point - but probably not from Isabel's pov (though it might be funny to write her general horro at all aspects of Felicity and Oliver's life).
> 
> FTR: Hannah is three, nearly four, and Mila is 8 months. Felicity _is_ pregnant again with a third (unplanned but wanted) child. Hannah is not allowed to go crawling around in the dirt after dark (despite what Isabel thinks). She accidentally upended a pot plant, picked a flower and ran for her father hoping to escape her nanny.


End file.
